THE BILLIONAIRE'S SERVANT
Carry your child.
I slightly lower my eyes, troubled. I cannot understand how such an idea could have germinated in his mind, how he can envisage such a thing with me. Me, the simple servant who, a few weeks ago, was content to clean the pieces of this huge villa without even daring to meet her gaze.
But above all, I think of Isabella. To this worthy woman, seated in front of me, who, despite her apparent force, hides a fragility that few people must perceive. She knows that her days are counted. She knows that she no longer has the luxury of time.